Silent Rescue

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “A nap?”

  “Yep. Because once we get to Vegas, it might be a long time before we get to rest again.”

  “I somehow doubt I’m going to be able to sleep.”

  “Don’t underestimate the comfort level of my chest.” To emphasize his words, he lifted his arm, draped it over her and pulled her close. “Try it.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  But a yawn escaped her lips anyway. And he felt safe. And warm. And after just a few short minutes, Maryse felt herself slipping away in spite of her protests.

  * * *

  Once he was sure Maryse was asleep, Brooks closed his own eyes. Not to rest, but to give himself some time to think. He wasn’t used to approaching a case without the law on his side, and he needed to come up with a solid plan.

  But his body ached. His head throbbed. He wanted to sleep, too. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure where to start. On the one hand, he thought it might be best to just swoop in to Nank’s headquarters and demand that he give back the kid. In his experience, directness often worked best. Of course, he had no clue whether or not a headquarters even existed, let alone where it might be. In his pursuit of Nank, they’d managed to examine nearly every facet of People With Paper. Never once had they located a secret lair or the man in question. Brooks had told Maryse that the man was elusive, and he’d meant it. Presumably, he spent time in his varying offices and factories. Damned if Brooks had seen any proof of it.

  Probably wouldn’t take Cami there, anyway.

  Which was a whole other problem.

  Under normal circumstances, he would’ve connected with one of his contacts at McCarren International. He would’ve put a bulletin out, searching for the girl. Whoever had her was only a few hours ahead at most. They would’ve been intercepted. Arrested. This would’ve been over.

  But then we’d be taking the chance that the authorities would take Cami away.

  He knew it wasn’t a risk Maryse was willing to take. Which meant it wasn’t one he was willing to take, either.

  His gaze dropped down to sweep over her face. Had he just seen it for the first time this morning? It seemed impossible. She’d quickly wound her way into his heart. The thought of doing something that would drive her away—like placing a call that would endanger her future with her daughter—dug into him. He swept a strand of hair off her cheek. In sleep, she looked more peaceful than she had in any of the last twelve hours they’d spent together. Still beautiful, but less pristine. Not that she’d been pristine in the front seat of his rental car.

  Brooks couldn’t help but grin at the memory. Pristine? Hell, no. She was downright wanton.

  He couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Or that he didn’t want to see that side of her again. Preferably sooner rather than later.

  All the more reason to stop thinking in circles and come up with a workable plan, he reminded himself.

  He sighed and pushed a soft kiss onto her forehead. Deciding maybe a bit of movement would help, he eased his arm free, unbuckled, then stood and stretched.

  The flight attendant appeared immediately. “Can I help you with anything, sir?”

  “Just point me toward the restroom.”

  “Straight up the aisle, just before the curtain, little room with the toilet.”

  “Hard to miss.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks.”

  Brooks picked his way past the other business-class passengers, turning over the options—and complications—in his mind. Ruling out the direct confrontation meant they needed to go for something more subtle. Which in turn meant they needed to know exactly where Camille was being held.

  “Impossible without someone on the inside,” he muttered.

  And his last two informants—Jean-Paul and the girl who’d got involved with the captain’s favorite rookie—were both dead.

  He stopped in front of the bathroom door and scowled at the little red Occupied sign, then stepped back to wait. As he did, he bumped the curtain that separated the front of the plane from the back. His eyes flicked to the little opening. Then they locked on a familiar face.

  Dee White.

  The sight of her stunned him so badly that he couldn’t even blink. She was cleaner than the last time they’d run into her, her clothes tidy and conservative. A square bandage covered the bruise on her head. None of it really mattered. What did matter was how the hell she’d managed to get on their plane and why the hell she continued to be so persistent.

  Forgoing a need for caution—and trusting that she’d have a need to not cause a scene on the flight—he pushed through the curtains, strode up the more crowded aisle, then seated himself in the empty seat beside her.

  “Hello there, Dee. Funny to see you here,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She moved like she was going to stand, but he closed a hand to her wrist and held it firmly to the armrest between their seats.

  “We need to chat.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I can’t say what I think because of our current location, but I guarantee you it’s not pretty.” He relaxed his face into a phony smile as another cheerful flight attendant passed by. “One thing I can say, though, is that you’re awfully good at following us.”

  “Listen. Brooks—”

  “So you know who I am.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You told me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then she must’ve said your name in front of me.”

  “Possibly.” He flicked a cool look her way. “But I doubt that’s it.”

  She leaned a little closer, and he could see the sheen of sweat on her upper lip as she spoke. “I’d tell you more. But I can’t.”

  “All I want to know right now is whether or not you’re alone.”

  “I am.”

  “If you’re lying...”

  “I’m not lying,” she said quickly.

  “Where’s Greg?” Brooks wanted to know.

  “He’s not good at blending in.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “He would’ve got made in a second.” She licked her lips nervously. “The guy in the blue suit...two rows up... He’s an air marshal.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He is.”

  He shook his head. “At this point, I don’t care if he’s the president himself. I just want you to know that when we get off the plane, I’ll be waiting.”

  She opened her mouth again, but Brooks didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He just wanted to get away from her. To get back to Maryse, and to give himself time to think a bit more. So he spun away and moved back up to business class with as little fuss as possible. Already, a plan was forming in his mind. Dee knew Nank personally. She could be bought, her loyalty swayed. He knew that for a fact, as evidenced by her actions with Cami. She wanted a ransom. She would’ve taken it from Maryse, who would’ve given it.

  Brooks paused beside their row, staring down at her. He knew she was willing to pay. She’d flat-out said so. But he was leery of asking her. Mostly because he knew she’d jump at anything that could possibly help. It would give her even more hope, and she’d fall that much harder if Dee let them down. Which she might do.

  He slid in his seat, and Maryse shifted a little and blinked up at him.

  “Everything okay?” she murmured.

  “Yep. Just fine, sweetheart. A few more hours. Go back to sleep.”

  “You sure?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Nothing to worry about until we land.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave her a squeeze and shoved aside a tickle of guilt in favor of enjoying the way she fit so perfectly beside him. He would tell her his idea. But not until he had to.

  Chapter 17 />
  A squawking voice dragged Maryse from a deep sleep. For a minute, she was disoriented. Then Brooks’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she remembered.

  The plane. Cami.

  Her heart dropped, and she sucked in a breath.

  “We’re on the ground.” Brooks’s voice was low and somehow reassuring in spite of the fact that he hadn’t really said anything significant.

  “I missed the landing?”

  “Well. It was a smooth one,” he teased.

  “Must’ve been.”

  “We’re one step closer to Camille. And I’ve got something to show you.”

  “To show me?”

  “Yep. I was going to explain, but I thought it was better this way.”

  “Okay,” she said cautiously.

  Something about the brightness of his words made her nerves flutter. Not that she didn’t trust him. But she was pretty sure he’d make an effort to disguise his own worry in an attempt to assuage hers. She opted for waiting it out and threaded her fingers through his as the captain announced they were ready to deplane.

  Brooks didn’t add anything, either. He just pulled her to her feet, then led her quickly into the airport. But the second their feet hit the carpet, he stopped short and turned her to face the rest of the passengers, and she knew her trepidation was valid.

  “What are we waiting for?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  He gave her hand a squeeze and inclined his head. “That.”

  Maryse felt the blood drain from her face as she spotted the petite woman exiting just then. “That’s Dee White.”

  “Yes, it is,” he murmured back.

  The other woman looked up. She met Maryse’s gaze and blinked nervously before nodding once at Brooks. Then she stepped forward, bumped her foot on a ridge in the floor and dropped her purse, spilling the contents.

  As she bent to pick everything up, Maryse used the opportunity to squeeze Brooks’s hand back—hard—and ask, “You knew she was on the plane?”

  “Yeah. I talked to her while you slept.”

  “And you didn’t wake me up?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Well. I’m worried now.”

  “She’s going to help us.”

  “How? Why?”

  He bent down and spoke close to her ear. “She knows Nank, sweetheart. She’s our only in. All we need her to do is find where they’re holding Cami. And as far as why is concerned...she’s not much more than a mercenary. For the right price...”

  “And why would we trust her?”

  “We wouldn’t. We won’t.”

  She tipped her head up, watching him watch Dee guardedly. “So...”

  “She knows I’m a cop.”

  “What?”

  “I’m pretty damned sure she knows, anyway. So. You’re going to offer to pay her, and I’m going to offer to keep her out of jail.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Possibly. But all that matters is she believes it.”

  “Unless she decides to sue you for not following through.”

  “Fine. I’ll just promise to try and keep her out of jail.”

  Maryse couldn’t quite muster up a laugh. Especially not when she realized that Dee had finished fishing her items from the ground and was now headed their way. Though the other woman held her head straight ahead, her eyes darted nervously around the airport.

  It made Maryse more nervous herself. So much so that she didn’t notice the four uniformed men until they were already brushing past. Brooks slid his hand down her arm and tugged her away.

  “Brooks,” she hissed. “What’s going on?”

  “Look. Subtly.”

  She tipped her head just as one of the men slapped a pair of cuffs onto Dee’s wrists.

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “Taking her in.”

  “I can see that. But for what?”

  “Who knows? I’m sure there’s a list.”

  “But—” She cut herself off as the police moved by again.

  Two cleared the way while the other two held Dee’s arms. The petite woman kept her head down as they passed.

  “This is bad,” Brooks said. “And not just because she can’t help us.”

  “She knows who you are.”

  “And she can identify you.”

  “And...oh, God. She knows about Cami.” Dizziness hit Maryse hard as she realized how much more precarious their already-precarious situation had become.

  “C’mon. We need to get our bags and get moving.”

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  They made it all the way to the carousel. But just as the bags from their flights started dropping, Brooks’s phone chimed, and when he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, Maryse knew it wasn’t good news.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “A text message from my partner.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says ‘look up.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  Slowly, Brooks lifted his head. Maryse followed his gaze. At first, she saw nothing. But as she continued to stare, she spotted a flurry of activity just past the throng of people waiting for their luggage. Passengers and their families parted to make room for yet another set of uniformed police, these ones moving with the subtlety of a herd of rhinos.

  Brooks drew in a noisy breath and spoke grimly. “That’s my captain and his favorite group of men.”

  “I thought you said they didn’t work out of Vegas.”

  “They don’t.” His phone pinged another message, and he glanced down, then back up again, scanning one side of the airport.

  “What did that one say?” Maryse asked, trying again to see what he saw.

  “‘Look left.’ And there he is. Come on.”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, or mention the bags they were leaving behind. He just grabbed ahold of her hand again and tugged her along. He swiped sideways, out of view of the oncoming officers, then ducked into the crowd. He pulled and pulled, and for a while, she thought their weaving path was random. But after a few minutes, she realized that the same man had been ahead of them the whole time. Dressed in khakis, a T-shirt and pulled-down ball cap, he moved along at a pace that was just too fast to be called meandering.

  They moved through several crowds of people and past multiple baggage carousels. They went through a hall and curved into a newspaper kiosk. Pretty soon, Maryse was lost. Which she guessed was the intent behind the whole thing. She wasn’t sure she could’ve found her way back to their starting point for a million dollars.

  But at last, the crowd thinned. For a second, the man in khakis was nowhere to be seen, but as they rounded a corner and Brooks slowed, Maryse spotted him again. He’d moved through a set of wide automatic doors and stood on the other side, his elbow resting on the roof of an off-duty taxi. He inclined his head slightly in their direction as they hurried toward the door themselves, and then he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  As they followed outside, Maryse inhaled. Factoring in the five-hour flight and the time difference, it had to be about midnight. But the air was warm and dry even though it was fully dark, and the city lights illuminated the horizon. She knew that if they got closer to the strip itself, the time wouldn’t matter. It was one of the few things that she remembered clearly from her last trip—that strange feeling that no one in Vegas ever slept.

  Everything else about those few days was a blur, drowned out by her new reality. She’d been terrified and alone except for a very tiny, very quiet Camille. She hadn’t yet figured out that the near-silence came from the newborn’s deafness. She hadn’t yet figured out anything. The world had seeme
d too big, and her prospects were dim.

  “You all right, sweetheart?”

  She glanced up and realized she’d stopped just a few steps from the cab. Brooks was looking down at her with a concerned expression on his face, clearly waiting for her to answer.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Brooks let go of her hand, offered her a smile, then kissed her lightly before opening the back door and signing, Welcome to Vegas.

  Nervous, but trusting him nonetheless, she slid into the backseat. He followed, and in seconds, they were moving out of the terminal and toward the lights.

  * * *

  For several minutes, the inside of the cab was quiet. Brooks could practically feel the questions building up in his partner’s mind. Could almost see them adding more gray to the man’s salt-and-pepper hair. They’d worked together for four years, and though they were very different men, this was the first time he’d felt the need to keep anything from Masters.

  Not your secrets to tell, he reminded himself.

  Which was why he needed to approach things carefully. And he had his own questions, too. Like how his partner had known he’d be at the airport, and why their mutual boss was there, too.

  The other man broke the silence first, his near-black gaze boring into Brooks. “Hey, Small?”

  He braced himself. “Yeah, Masters?”

  “Did you call her ‘sweetheart’?”

  “That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Seems pretty significant considering just this morning you told me there were zero pretty girls up there in Canada.”

  “I took your advice and found one.”

  “She is pretty.”

  “Sure is.”

  “And I’m guessing she’s calling the shots.”

  Brooks relaxed, just a little. “You guess right.”

  Masters paused, then glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes on Maryse. “Hi, honey.”

  “Sweetheart,” she corrected, making Brooks grin.

  “Maryse, meet my partner, Shepherd Masters,” he said. “Masters, this is Maryse.”

  His partner tipped his hat. “Miss. Must’ve pulled a hell of a good trick to get this guy to break this many rules.”